I was given a Dixie cup of water to drink and told I could give the sample pee at the end of the visit instead.  This plan worked out well and I found myself wrapping up this week’s gala back at the nurse’s station. It’s not always easy, the pee sample acquisition, and on this particular occasion I really wanted to be sure and get good and lined up since this was my only shot. Despite not being able to properly view the area being aimed at anymore, success was mine.

I’m not really sure what happened at this point. I have absolutely no idea what hit where or loosened what, but suddenly my cuppie was on the floor with my pee surrounding it- including over the tops of my flip-flops, as in my toes. Seriously?? I wondered if this was really happening to me, or me to it.

After desperately using most of the paper towel available and bathing my feet in the sink (another difficult task with such a belly), I FINALLY left the bathroom with only about 3 drops of pee left in the cup. No one was there. I stood for a while. I Paced to view the reception area considering getting someone’s attention but it was a rather delicate situation, I thought, and required a certain amount of privacy. Finally I sat and waited.

It seemed to take forever before a nurse came over. Exasperated, I tried to explain why I only had 3 drops to show for myself and let them know they might want to disinfect in the near future. “I spilled my pee on the floor- I cleaned it up!- But I only have a tiny bit of pee now-Is it enough?” She fairly ignored me and proceeded to take the colored stick out of it’s box and stick it in the cup. “You’re fine” She said.

And that was it. Time to go. Goodbye.

Stepping out of the office and into the afternoon sunlight, I found myself excited to relay this ridiculous story to my husband. He’s not going to believe I just spilled my pee!

The moral? No need to cry over spilt pee; they only need a little.

What? Who cares? Isn’t she the one who values the work the least? But there is just nothing like planning on dissing and getting dissed first. …

One time, like a million years ago, I broke up with this guy because he had started acting like a douche. Went from being awesome to vagina windex just like that. He was so upset, tears in his eyes and the whole deal. Relieved and flattered, I agreed to stay together. Very next day, I kid not, he broke up with me. Just wasn’t into it anymore. WTF?

Maybe it’s control. Thinking that by one’s negative opinion of the other person or situation they have control over it and to loose it is devastatingly surprising. You can’t hate me, I hate you first!

Maybe it’s just the blow to the ego in general. No one likes to be told they suck. I think if a stranger on the street who has never seen or spoken to me before looked at me and said, ‘You’re Dumb’, I’d be pretty sad.

Whatever it is, it’s poetically hilarious. My friend did eventually remember that she was going to end the job anyway, and could loosen her emotional clutches from their grip on the day’s reprimand.  Oh yyyeah, that’s right. F- ‘em. Idiots!

We had a nice tension-releasing laugh and little happy-making chemicals started greasing up the brain again.

This Max Factor device was intended to measure beauty, scientifically. What I want to know is… What were you supposed to do with your measurement? I think these ’scientists’ just wanted to be able to cage and poke pretty girls.

This lip stencil actually seems like it could be useful if you’re going for a one-lip-shape-fits-all Lucille Ball type look.

This dimple-making device seems very well intentioned and pretty logical. If we had play dough faces. Which would be kind of awesome.

See, now this is just playing to every woman’s denial of reason when propositioned with a too good to be true beauty answer. Satisfying shakes as meals anyone?

This nose-shaper promises another binding technique. I have to admit that as a child I entertained the idea that if I taped my ears back for long enough they’d stay that way.

The funniest thing is that if it weren’t for current advertising and consumer protection laws we’d probably still be buying some of these products out of hopeful desperation. But everyone looking the same is so boring it isn’t even pretty. Can you even remember the exact look of the last big-titted blond bombshell you saw? No way, because they’re not memorable. When I modeled I’d hate when hairstylists slicked my hair back because those darn ears would poing out. If I said anything though, without a doubt, either the photographer or art director or whoever would say, ‘Oh we love your ears. We booked you for those ears. They’re so cute.’ So, ha! Embrace that nose, ass, ears…. because it’s yours.

But I still won’t wear my hair slicked back.

I totally understood why the $150 in hot dogs was worth it to Liz. Nothing can kill your day quite like a line cutter. In the past my typical response would be to silently stew as the person got away with it, and then be pissed at myself for not saying anything. After an incident in Victoria’s Secret a few years ago, however, my brew of kick ass has been quietly simmering, just waiting to be served.

Yesterday, at JoAnn’s Crafts and Fabrics of all places, it happened. One line. Two registers. I’m next. Suddenly, the lady behind me is in front of me with her items on the counter.

“The line’s back here.” I remind her.

“This is another line.” She says. Oh no, dude…

“No, it’s one line, and you were just in it.”

She ignores me.

“So what, you’re just going to stay there?” I push. My face is red- I can feel the burn.

“I’m just going to get my stuff.” She somehow thinks this makes sense.

“We’re all getting stuff. But if you’re in that much of a hurry, some kind of craft emergency…” I say

“It’s really not that serious!” She yells, but not without admitting defeat as she takes her items off the counter.

As she turns she adds, “You don’t know me… Be talking to me like that. She don’t know me!”

I won? I won! It was unbelievable. After jumping in my car, locking the doors, and speeding away with one eye on the rearview mirror, I called a friend to relay my victory.

“She actually said, ‘You don’t know me?’” Hahahaha

“Yes!”  Hahahahaha

“Like you need to know her?” Hahahaha

“I know!” Hahahahaha.

Ah. Sometimes being the ‘bigger person’ only leaves you with a frown…. And getting your bitch face on can turn that frown upside down. I gotta say, standing up for yourself feels damn attractive.

Moving on from one type of theatrical makeup to another, today I’d like to talk about high fashion makeup. A friend recently emailed to ask what I thought about the ‘no eyebrow’ trend. She wasn’t into it and thought it would look ridiculous. And you know what? It would look ridiculous not to have any eyebrows. Sometimes there is trickle down from experimental high fashion makeup, in a more subtle variety, but in this case I’m going to have to agree with my friend that it’s probably not going to happen.

However, that wasn’t really the intention of the first artist who did it and then the others who followed. The point was to have fun! To do something interesting and complete an image that is considered art. Maybe it’s the short-term, mass-market presentation of high fashion to a consumer market that makes it lose some of it’s art cred , but it’s not literal and hardly ever intends to be literal. No, you shouldn’t bleach your eyebrows and wear raccoon eye makeup to work tomorrow with a high-collared Marie Antoinette-esk bodice. Don’t be silly.

Working in the Miami market which is almost exclusively commercial (think American Eagle or Cosmo Magazine) and very pretty and very literal, I sometimes forget that high fashion makeup IS about fun and humor. I can tell you for sure that almost every ladies fashion look is created with a touch of humor. The glossy appearance and larger than life egos results in some confusion on the matter, but just maybe that’s the funniest part of all.

While up in NY a couple weeks ago I shot with Photographer David Morett. Initially we were going for pretty and it just wasn’t working. We abandoned ship and just as I clutched to the edge of the pretty life boat, David said, ‘Come on, it’s fashion, let’s have some fun.’ And you know, he was right.

Here’s a shot from the day, and no, I didn’t paint a forehead gold to imply that that’s what the cool kids are doing. It just looks cool- and kind of funny.

And a few out takes of model Alessandre having fun in her makeup…